Desperately Seeking Mr. Right (Destined For Love: Europe)

by Sally Johnson

  Joshua finally managed to speak. “Phoebe. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m going to leave you two alone,” Christopher said without looking at me.

  I pointed at him. “Oh, no. You might want to stay. You’re just as much at fault as he is.”

  He looked between me and Joshua. He started to back up but stumbled over a black case holding some equipment. “I really think you two need to be alone,” he said, then steadied himself. “Three’s a crowd in this case.”

  Joshua’s eyes were wide. He shook his head slowly, as if he was signaling Christopher to stay, but Christopher was not having any of it.

  I lifted a shoulder. “Well, if you’re that spineless, go ahead. But it does affect the show, and it will affect your ratings, so you might want to hang around.” I was beyond caring what either one of those men thought.

  Christopher held his hands up in defeat, then rushed past us. I heard the door click behind me.

  “So. I’m simple and naïve?” I snapped. I folded my arms across my chest.

  Joshua opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance.

  “Or am I ‘sweet but bland’? You know, a ‘small-town girl who believes everything you tell her.’”

  Joshua ran his hands through his hair and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You watched the show.”

  “Yeah, I did. But it wasn’t the comments about the ‘hot girls’ or ‘how you liked getting so much attention’ or even ‘how you could easily fall in love with all of them’ that bothered me the most. It was the one about you following your heart.” I scoffed. “‘Follow your heart’—what a bunch of lies. I don’t think you have a heart. The only thing you were following was fortune and fame. You didn’t care about me or Carilynn. You just want to be in the spotlight, and you’ll do anything to stay there. You’d go to such great lengths”—I spread my arms wide—“for the show?”

  He pursed his lips. “The show must go on. There has to be a finale.”

  Unbelievable. “These are our lives! What about falling in love? Really falling in love?” We aren’t a show. Who cares about the show or the finale?

  “I do. There has to be an engagement. I have to fulfill my contract.”

  “You’re okay with your life being dictated by the contract you signed?” I motioned with a hand around me, most especially at the camera man. “With all of this? How is this love?”

  “I came on the show to fall in love and get engaged.” He put his hands out, palms down, trying to tamp down the situation. “I’m sorry. We are under a lot of pressure, and maybe we just need to take a step back and have a breather.”

  “Nope. I don’t need a breather. I’m done. Good luck. I’m out.” Without waiting for an answer, I turned on my heel and walked out the door.

  As I stalked down the hall, the post-confrontation adrenaline hit me. I started shaking.

  Shocked and thoughts spinning, I rushed back to my room. For this whole thing—

  his visit here, the romancing, the engagement—I was the back-up plan. As he said, the show must go on.

  I fell onto my bed, stunned. It was all fake. The show, Joshua’s gesture to win me back, his feelings. Tears stung my eyes and overflowed down my cheeks. I felt used and foolish. I rolled over and wiped my eyes, trying to pull myself together while allowing myself to work through the emotions. I wished I could call Evangeline, but she was at work.

  Joshua was a complete loss, which I obviously knew now was for the best. I made myself feel better by telling myself to chalk it up to experience. The tears I cried over him the first time we said goodbye were enough and didn’t need to be repeated. How did I even think things would be different the second time around? And I did all that at the cost of Bryan being the casualty.

  Bryan. What had I done?

  I woke up with a start.

  I fell asleep thinking about Bryan and woke up still thinking about him.

  I threw my arm over my eyes and groaned. Bryan was here for one more day, so maybe there was still a chance I could talk to him. He had been sweet and sincere, and I could appreciate that even more right now. I wondered how badly I messed things up with him. I probably didn’t deserve a second chance after yesterday, but at the very least I needed to apologize and make things right with him.

  After debating with myself about whether I should reach out to Bryan, I finally gathered my courage and decided to call him. I picked up the room phone only to immediately put it back down. Why am I bothering him? To apologize? He had called me out, and I had denied it, and I was hoping he’d forgive me. And maybe consider seeing me one last time before he left.

  I ignored the internal voice calling me a hypocrite and made the call anyway.

  “Bryan, it’s Phoebe,” I said as soon as he picked up.

  Silence.

  I swallowed hard and tried again. “Bryan? Are you there?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was flat.

  “Can I see you this morning?”

  There was no hesitation on his part. “No.”

  Something hitched in my throat, and I thought I might start crying. “No because you don’t want to?”

  I heard him sigh. “I don’t have time. I decided to spread my dad’s ashes at Westminster Abbey, and I want to do that before I leave.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” I blurted out, then cringed. It wasn’t my place to invite myself along. But maybe there was a chance he wanted company. My company.

  There was about five seconds of silence, but it felt like five minutes.

  “Thanks, but I got it. It was great meeting you, and … good luck.” His voice sounded disinterested and distant, like he was talking to me but was somewhere else.

  “That’s it? That’s all? You’re breaking up with me?” I almost clapped my hand over my mouth after I said it. All along, I kept telling myself Bryan was just a fling, but obviously, subconsciously, I was thinking about him in a much more serious way. Is there still potential for us?

  “We were never dating.” His words came out slowly, as if he were confused. “Look, Phoebe, I don’t have time for you. I’m literally walking out the door right now. I’ve really got to go.” The line went dead.

  I couldn’t let him go so easily. I couldn’t let it end like this.

  I rushed out of my room, barefoot, and ran to the elevator. I had to catch him. Maybe I can fix this.

  My elevator must have opened just seconds after his. I recognized his Red Sox hat halfway across the lobby.

  “Bryan!” I called out. My yelling interrupted the elegant stillness of the lobby. I didn’t have shoes on and was a disheveled mess. I probably looked like that homeless person I was mistaken for when I first arrived, but, I didn’t let that stop me.

  He halted and turned around slowly. I waved frantically and hurried over to him. I was rushing so much that I almost crashed into him.

  Breathlessly, I sputtered the comeback I had been rehearsing since I hung up with him: “True. But I considered us at least friends. Now you’re breaking our friendship up.”

  His whole face scrunched up in confusion. “What?”

  “Yes, we were never dating, but I do consider you my friend.” I continued. “I don’t want it to end this way.”

  Bryan expression was like stone. “I realize you’re trying to fix this, but I think it’s better we just agree to disagree.”

  I grabbed his arm. “But that’s just it. It’s not better. I want to say I’m sorry.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the exit. “I need to go.”

  “If I’m still in the city when you get back, I’d love to see you.” It was my last-ditch effort. At this point, it wasn’t even about romance. It was about friendship, comfort, consistency—things I couldn’t get from Joshua.

 
; He pushed his hands into his front pockets. “I don’t know, Phoebe.” He took a step back, glanced at the door, and then looked at me.

  My hand dropped off his arm. I forced a smile even though my throat was tight. I knew I was about to cry. “Okay. I get it. I can take a hint.” My voice was raspy. “And I don’t know if you care, but you were right about Joshua not being the guy for me. It really was nice meeting you.”

  He gave a quick nod and left. I hung my head as he walked away. I stood in the lobby and watched as he disappeared without even a glance back at me. Tears pricked my eyes as the full intensity of what just happened hit me. I sniffed, then blotted my eyes with the back of my hand. I slowly made my way back to the elevator, oblivious to anything or anyone else in the lobby. I was in my own personal world of regret.

  Once I was back in my room, I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I had been wrong to think I could simply say sorry and that would be enough. Or that I could go back to him and pick things up where we had left off. But that wasn’t fair to Bryan. I shouldn’t have expected him to be waiting around in the wings until I needed him. That was exactly what Joshua had done to me.

  Oh.

  The realization struck me hard. I didn’t want to be like that. I pondered the situation. I had gotten over Joshua once, and it wouldn’t be nearly as hard the second time. No need to dwell on him. I didn’t necessarily need to get over Bryan, but I did need to acknowledge my mistake and move on.

  I sent another text to Bryan, apologizing for being insensitive. I cried a little more as I considered ways I could fix the situation or make it better. But maybe I couldn’t fix things with Bryan, and I needed to accept that. Maybe I needed to stop worrying about having a relationship and, instead, just appreciate my time alone. I had a few days left in London, and I should make the most of them.

  Sightseeing by myself that day was not much fun. In fact, it was lonely. But I was determined to have a good time and enjoy the rest of my vacation. I spent the morning at the Tate, which lifted my spirits. It was hard not to be in awe in the presence of such masterpieces.

  It wasn’t until I walked by a café advertising famous crumpets that I acknowledged how much I was missing Bryan. I went in, ordered myself a crumpet, and took a picture of it before trying my first taste. I wondered if I would ever have the chance to tell Bryan what a crumpet tasted like.

  Chapter Ten

  The brisk, shrill double ring of my hotel room phone woke me up. That’s weird. Who would be calling me? I didn’t ask for a wake-up call. I glanced at the clock. It was just after seven in the morning.

  “Phoebe?”

  “Yes?” I asked slowly and cautiously.

  “Hi Phoebe. It’s Bryan.”

  I sat up straight in bed. Did I hear right? It had been two days since I had last spoken to him. “Bryan?” Why is he calling me? Shouldn’t he be in Scotland by now? Considering I thought I’d never hear from him again, I held my breath, waiting for confirmation.

  “Yes, Bryan.”

  Yes! I punched the air, then took a breath, hoping to sound calm. “How are you?” I chewed on my lip.

  “Well, I have a little problem,” he said. I heard a female speaking in the background. “Actually, hold on one sec.”

  I wondered where he was. I mean, I assumed Scotland. Who is he with? The background noise didn’t sound loud enough to be a convention. And why is he calling me?

  “Yes, thank you,” he said. “Ok.” I could tell he had turned his attention back to me. He took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?” My heart rate picked up. I climbed out of bed only to sit down again.

  “Well, I was—uh—I was trying my talent at the Scottish Highland Traditional dance last night, but I rolled my ankle, fell off the stage, flashed the audience, and got arrested.”

  “Are you serious?” I exclaimed. I tried to picture it, but all I could imagine was an embarrassing—yet ridiculously hilarious—scene. I wasn’t sure if it would be rude to laugh out loud.

  “No.”

  “What? No?”

  “I was just making that up.” He chuckled softly.

  “You haven’t been arrested?” My words came out in a whoosh.

  “No.”

  “How about the Scottish Highland dancing? Is that part true?” I stifled a giggle.

  “Not that part either. But I did break my ankle.”

  “Are you okay?” The conversation sobered up quickly. “What happened?”

  “I was exploring the city last night, trying to find someplace to eat. I stepped off the curb, realized I looked the wrong way crossing, and almost got hit by a car. I tried to step back to the curb, but there was a gutter and I tripped. It was all very graceful. Good thing it was dark.”

  “Are you really telling me the truth?” I teased.

  “This time I am. I wish the other story was true. It’s a much better story.” I could imagine his easy smile.

  “Except for the broken ankle part. That’s not a good part of any story.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Did you break your ankle while wearing a kilt?” I couldn’t help but wonder.

  “Thankfully, no.”

  And then there was silence.

  “So—ah—what can I help you with since you don’t need me to bail you out of jail?” Part of me—well, almost all of me—was happy for any chance to talk to him again.

  “I’m sort of temporarily disabled.”

  “Oh.”

  He sighed. “And they admitted me to the hospital.”

  “Why? Didn’t they just cast your ankle?”

  “No. They had to do surgery and put three pins in. Simply put, I have a spiral break, which means I broke my bone in several different places and not all on the same side. Now I have a huge cast.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t think I can get home by myself.”

  I pictured him hobbling around on crutches, trying to drag a suitcase through the airport and through security. Security was hard enough having to take off shoes, pull out electronics, and be scanned for bomb-making materials. Trying to do that while hopping on one leg would be extremely difficult. Then there was getting to the gate and boarding the plane—how will he manage crutches and stowing his carry-on in the overhead bin at the same time? And let’s not forget getting through customs. “I imagine it would be difficult.”

  “I really need your help.”

  His plea seemed honest and heartfelt. My heart fluttered and a shiver went up my spine.

  “I know what’s-his-name is there—”

  “He’s not,” I quickly corrected him. “At least I don’t think he is. I basically told him to have a nice life.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  “I—well—I realize we didn’t say goodbye on the best of terms—”

  “I think we can both agree it wasn’t ideal.”

  “But I’m desperate, and I really need your help.”

  I had asked for a second chance, and here it was, begging me to take it. “Of course I’ll help you.”

  “It was never meant to be an ‘I told you so’ kind of thing. I just think you—”

  “You don’t need to say it. I agree with you. I deserve a better guy.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I watched the show and saw what you and my family had been trying to tell me. He was here scouting out a replacement bride because he and his first fiancée broke up before the finale. Just thought you should know.”

  “I see.” His voice was quiet. I couldn’t detect any satisfaction in his response.

  I had a blitz of energy. “So, what is the plan? Are you flying home out of Sco
tland?” I was more than happy to change the subject from me and my poor judgment.

  “That’s the part where you come in. I’m supposed to return to London and fly out of there. Originally, I was leaving out of Scotland, but then I changed it last minute. Problem is I can’t really make it back by myself. I was hoping I could persuade you to come to Scotland, accompany me back to London, and help me get to the airport. Once I’m checked in, I think I can manage security and get to my gate.”

  “Traveling could be tough.”

  “This is my desperate plea for help. I will pay for your trip here, and you will have my undying gratitude.”

  I didn’t have to think about it too hard. Before I even agreed, I had already committed to helping him. But I did indulge in a moment of thankfulness. I was thrilled to hear from him again. And what if I were in his situation and he was the only person I knew here? Despite our falling out, I felt that he would have done the same for me. He didn’t have to ask me twice.

  “Tell me when and where and how, and I’ll be there.”

  “As soon as you can. They are releasing me from the hospital tonight.”

  “I’m on my way,” I said after writing down what hospital he was at and his room number. I hung up and sprang into action. I pulled up same-day flights on my computer, but they were either ridiculously expensive or very inconvenient. By the time I got to the airport, checked in and waited for my flight, it’d be about the same travel time as taking a train to Edinburgh. I opted for the train, seeing there was one leaving in just over an hour. I could use the time traveling to catch up on some work. I bought my ticket online, shut down my computer and tucked it in my overnight bag. I got dressed, gathered enough items for an overnight trip and grabbed my purse. I was off to rescue Bryan.

  Six hours later, I entered the Royal Edinburgh Hospital. My hands were sweating and clammy, but at the same time I shivered in anticipation. I wondered if it was going to be awkward seeing him again, having left things on a bad note, or if we would we both try to act as normal as possible and let bygones be bygones. I didn’t know what to expect, but I did know how happy and grateful I was to have a second chance to see him. Unlike the situation with Joshua, I needed to make things right with Bryan because he was someone worth making things right with.